


Alone in the Cold

by nocaptainonthisship



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 08:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20871530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocaptainonthisship/pseuds/nocaptainonthisship
Summary: Captain America isn't his anymore. Captain America belongs to us all.





	Alone in the Cold

**Author's Note:**

> unbetad. first time writing fic in a decade so be nice?

March, 2011

_For all your faults, I've never been ashamed to call you mine. You're a real piece shit sometimes, and I know you say the same about me, but you're mine just the same as I am yours._  
_Don't tell the guys, though I think they know already. I couldn't do any of this without you. I wanted to fight the bullies, but I think I found one bigger than what either of us can handle. I'm terrified to fail. I'm terrified we won't win this war. I can smile and nod and tell the generals and the cameras alike that I know what I'm doing, but the truth is that I'm scared shitless almost all the time. I'm scared we'll fail, that we'll all die in some bunker in the snow, no one left to mourn us because who do we have if not each other?_  
_More than that though, I'm scared you'll go and leave me behind. Don't go dying on me. Don't be reckless and stupid. I know thats my m.o., but don't be reckless, please. Don't go where I can't follow you. I'll get on my knees and beg if that makes it any better._  
_I miss everything that isn't entirely death. I miss Brooklyn. I miss the sounds of the city. I even miss the smell of piss that lingers outside the bars, and the smoke from the factories, the way it made my lungs burn all the time, but especially in winter. I suffered then, but not like this._  
_You know, I cried the night you left. I should be ashamed to admit that, even when you won't ever read this. I'm not, though. War knocks the shame out of you. I'll admit that I cried that night, and a few others, too. I couldn't imagine a world without you. I still can't. You are my true north, for all that it matters._  
_If this thing, this stupid plan, goes FUBAR on us, I hope you find this. I hope that somehow, someway, however this nightmare ends, that you find this, so I can tell you, once and for all, unequivocally, forever, in my own words. I don't give a good goddamn who knows it. I don't care what the consequences are. I need you to know, at least once, that I love you. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. I followed you into this hell, and I'll follow you into heaven if god allows. I'll follow you, because whatever else I have done or will do, loving you has been the thing of which I am most proud._

“Do you remember where you were, when you first read those words? Maybe you read them first in the New York Times, back in 1959. Maybe you read them in school. Perhaps you're hearing them for the first time this evening. Regardless, we all remember where we were when our perception of America's greatest hero changed forever.  
“He's the man you knew as a child, right along with Santa and the Tooth Fairy. He was larger than life, a hero sent from another time. Of course, Captain America was better than any of the other myths of our youth, because he turned out to be real. When the Santa faded into the background, Captain America kept showing up. He was in the games we played as children, cops and robbers became Cap and the Nazis. He was in our schools, in our movies, and long after his death, in our hearts.  
“I want to thank you all for being here this evening. It has been a true honor to work on this book, and an honor even greater still to see that people still long for the truth behind these pages. This has been a labor of love for many years, and I'm incredibly pleased by your kind reaction. Studying the Diary and its historical context gives us even greater perspective into the life of Steve Rogers, a perspective that, now, seems disrespectful to some. I believe that for all its intimacy, it all the more important.  
“To read the diary as literature is, of course, not its intended purpose. We can assume that Steve Rogers never intended for his deepest secrets to become a piece our collective history. And yet, here we are. What would our world look like if the foremost American hero hadn't been outed at the height of the Red Scare? Would we still be living in a darker age? One without the relative equality for the LGBT+ community? How has our world changed due to the release of the Diary of Steve Rogers?  
“As we know, it is not strictly a diary, but a collection of sketches, anecdotes, and letters never sent. This last category is what we will be discussing this evening. I, for one, cannot speak to the quality of Mr. Rogers' artistic efforts, though my wife tells me he's actually not bad. She's got the art covered.  
“Obviously, I skipped to the end, to the last letter, because let's be honest, that's the one everybody wants to talk about. That is the letter that made headlines upon it's publication. Practically every newspaper in the world screamed, 'Captain America's shocking homosexual secret!' Suddenly his friends and fellow soldiers were under intense scrutiny, none more so than James Barnes.  
“It was, of course, Mr. Barnes's death in the winter of 1959 that precipitated the publication of Steve Roger's diary. All of Rogers possessions were left to Barnes upon his descent into the Arctic, including his diary. We can only imagine Barnes reaction to reading the secrets held within the book. He kept those secrets safe on behalf of his friend for almost fifteen years.  
“The diary begins without secrets, simply the musings of a young man without family, left behind while his friends go to war. It is sometimes insightful and often maybe a little whiny. Steve Rogers is, at this point in his life, clearly a man who desires more than he is capable of achieving. After his death, Agent Carter of the Strategic Scientific Reserve spoke in an interview about the process of Rogers becoming Captain America. She said,  
“'Steve was certainly not the obvious choice, and I know there were some at Camp Lehigh who believed he was unfit for the project. However, Dr. Erskine believed, and I'm inclined to agree with him, that the most physically fit, that traditionally perfect soldier, actually would not have made the perfect Captain America. What made Steve right choice was his heart, his courage, his dedication not just to queen and country, but simply to morality, to goodness. The serum was designed to create the best, the encourage the growth of a person's better attributes, but it also had the potential to exponentially grow a persons worse qualities. So for that, it couldn't have been anyone but Steve.'  
“It was long speculated that Agent Carter and Captain America were lovers, a fiction Carter did little to combat in the aftermath of World War II. We know now, that she was aware of Rogers feelings for his best friend. She chose not to combat the rumors about them to protect his legacy. Not long after the mission to free the prisoners at Azzano, Rogers writes about a conversation between himself and Carter.  
_“'Peggy cornered me in my tent this afternoon, threw around all kinds of accusations about why I did what I did. When I discovered you were gone, I didn't even think. I didn't have a choice. At least, not one that made sense. I had to get you back, or at least know what happened to you. I couldn't have looked your mother in the eye if I had let you rot, alone and broken, while I paraded around in tights. They kept telling me that I was helping the war effort, that I was doing good, but I think we can all of us acknowledge they were feeding me a crock of shit. Probably about as much as I was feeding the public when I pretended to punch Hitler in the jaw every night._  
_'Peggy says that I made a choice anyway, and it reveals an awful lot about whats really important to me. Steven, she says, that little twist in her lips when she is mocking me all the more noticeable for that red stuff she always wears, Steven, we don't risk our lives for just anybody. Even you aren't that self-sacrificing. Now, tell me why you ran off on such a ridiculous errand._  
_'I told her everything._  
_'She's promised to get me well and truly drunk tonight.'_  
“For all that the Diary of Steve Rogers isn't a literary work, it knows how to build suspense. Imagine, if you will, coming home from war, your best friend's belongings now yours because they have nowhere else to go. Imagine sitting down one night to read his journal and reading that entry for the first time, wondering what it was that Rogers told Carter that afternoon in his tent.  
“Barnes was a war hero, but his life ended in tragedy. Fourteen years and two days after Captain Rogers flew a plane into the Arctic to stop the warheads from destroying the Eastern Seaboard of the United States, James Barnes was mugged at a train station in upstate New York. Much like his best friend, he died alone in the cold. He never married or fathered children. By all accounts he kept to himself, with few friends. It would seem he never recovered from the loss of his brother in arms.  
“After his passing, his sister Rebecca discovered the diary hidden in his possessions. She consulted with the rest of their family and decided to publish the work. The foreword she penned is often overlooked given the incendiary contents of the rest of the book, but in it she defends her choice to make her family's history public knowledge.  
_“'My brother was perhaps willfully ignorant of Steve's feelings towards him. He, maybe, ignored every sign that Steve loved him as more than a brother. Before the war, he certainly had his fair share of girlfriends. Maybe he thought that Steve would get over it. Maybe he genuinely didn't know._  
_'My sister and I think that Bucky loved Steve just as much as Steve ever loved him. We think they lied to the world and to each other so much they didn't have the faintest idea how to live differently. We think that if the world had been ready, they might have lived together, died together. They could have been happy in the knowledge that they had against every odd, found one another. It was obvious to any person who cared to look that they were, for lack of a better term, soulmates. If things had just been different, they could have stepped into the light and lived in peace. My sister thinks theirs is a great love story, over far too soon._  
_'Steve and Bucky were heroes, in every way that counted. Why should their love for one another make any difference to any one all?_  
_' Loving one another is the thing of which we should all be most proud._  
_'Let us step into the light.'_  
“And we did. Today marks the fifteenth anniversary of the Supreme Court's historic decision to legalize gay marriage. Their legacy has become greater even than winning a literal war.  
“I asked you at the beginning, if you remembered where you were when you first read those words. I can't forget. I had gone home for Christmas, on break from Sarah Lawrence. I stole the paper from my father that morning, and I didn't give it back until I had read every word of that letter a hundred times. The following morning, I drove into town and went to the local bookstore. As I paid for my first copy of The Diary of Steve Rogers, I chatted with salesgirl. We've been together for fifty-two years. I'd like to think that my life would not have been that different, but I'm not sure. I think holding that book in my hand gave me courage. I think knowing that I was not alone, gave me the strength to love the woman I was meant to, to live my life free of fear, to finally step into the light.  
“Thank you.” 

There is polite applause when Dr. Caldwell steps away from the podium, the more enthusiastic listeners rising to their feet. It is only a few moments before the applause fades, the crowd begins to thin.  
In the midst of them all, a man stands. He walks with the crowd, not against them. He doesn't need to stay in the background to fade away. There isn't much remarkable about him, after all. He isn't much taller than average, isn't much handsomer than average. His leather jacket could belong to anyone, just like his faded denim jeans, his oversized glasses, his knit cap. He could have bought them all at Walmart, just as easily as he could have gotten them at some overpriced boutique in Brooklyn.  
Spring is late coming this year, and he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket. The city roars constantly, but he remains silent, as he so often does. A few heads turn as he passes, still young enough and handsome enough to draw a vague sort of interest without much effort. He ignores them all.  
Around the corner, there's a car waiting. He doesn't seem the type to ride around in a black SUV, but then he isn't really what he seems.  
“Think we can make it back in some sort of decent time frame?” he asks his driver.  
“Probably not, sir.”  
He sighs, “Fuck New York.” He pull the cap from his head and ruffles his hair. “Well, we'll do our best, I guess.”  
“Should have taken a chopper, sir.”  
“I'll take traffic over a circus any day. Let's hit it.”  
As they pull away from the curb, he stares out at the city he called home, unrecognizable now in its cloudy neon glory. His phone chirps, and he sighs again before answering.  
“This is Director Barnes.”


End file.
